


My Fault

by YamiAshy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Chick-Flick Moments, F/M, Family Feels, Forced Orgasm, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sibling Incest, underage sam (in one scene)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiAshy/pseuds/YamiAshy
Summary: Based off of this kink meme prompt https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/105944.html?thread=40254424Sam is raped repeatedly throughout his life. He firmly believes it is all his fault. He is not a victim. He is to blame. When he's hurt by the two people closest to him he doesn't react in a way they expect him to. Dean and Castiel push him to reveal what happened then help him work through his self-hate.





	My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't expecting to write this. I read the prompt and for some reason, it stuck with me. It nagged at me until I sat down with it, then once I started writing I found I couldn't stop. This story contains graphic depictions of rape. Sam has not consented in any of the following situations. If you are triggered by this, do not continue reading.

The first time it happens Sam isn't even fully aware of what's happening. It's the middle of the night, dad is out, and the bed is cold where Dean had been sleeping. His big brother must have gone out again and Sam already knows if he asks Dean where he's been all night he won't get a straight answer in return. This happens a lot more when Dad is gone for long periods of time. It's been two weeks now since Dad's been out on the hunt for werewolves.

Sam yawns widely and burrows deeper into the comforter for warmth, he's starting to shiver. He really hopes Dean gets back soon from wherever he is. He misses the warm presence of his brother pressed up against his back. A creak sounds from the rotting floorboards in the hallway outside then there's a scrape of metal on metal as someone unlocks the door.

"Dean?" Sam calls out hesitantly. The footsteps sound too heavy to be his brother. "Dad?..."

The door swings open on creaky hinges and a hulking figure enters. Definitely not Dean. "Dad?..." He asks again softly. It sorta looks like him. It _could_ be him. Just in case one of his small hands worms under the pillows in search of the gun Dean usually keeps there. He's pretty sure he knows how to use it, he's watched Dean pull it apart and put it together a bunch of times. Instead of his fingers finding the comforting feeling of cool metal he finds nothing but sheets. Dean must have taken it with him wherever he went.

"Quiet boy unless you want to be in trouble." The voice is rough, gravelly, and slurring from alcohol. Sam's heard his dad try to speak after drinking lots and this man sorta sounds like that. He's reached the bedside now and he's hovering over top of Sam.

"What do you want mmph-!" A large meaty hand slaps down over his mouth and nose, stretching all the way across his face from one cheek to the other.

"I said _quiet_ boy or we'll be doing this the hard way, ya got it?" The bed creaks as the man kneels on the bed. "I'll move my hand but you'd better not scream. If you do I'll knock you senseless, understand boy? You pay attention when I'm talking to you."

Sam is struggling to breathe by now with the hand over his mouth and nose. Sure he can hold his breath a long time, longer than Dean even! But it's starting to hurt, and black spots drift along the edge of his vision.

"You nod now boy if you understand me."

The boy struggles to move his head under the weight of the man's hand but he tries to nod in a 'yes' motion. He really hopes the man will move his hand soon. The man keeps his hand in place for a moment longer before lifting it. Sam gasps for air as soon as he's free, but he doesn't scream though he really wants to. He doesn't think anyone that would hear would help him, and he's _scared_. Hopefully, Dean will come back really soon and help him.

"There we go... Good boy, that's a good boy." The hand moves to stroke his hair now, gentle in comparison to the previous rough treatment. "We're going to have lots of fun together you and I if you just stay quiet and do what I say. Nod if you understand me boy."

Sam gives another shaky nod. The man shifts closer on the bed kneeling almost on top of his body now and radiating heat. Sam isn't shaking from cold anymore. He lifts his eyes up to look at him and in the faint light filtering through the grimy motel window he finally recognizes the man. The manager.

"You're a good boy aren't you? You listen to directions just fine." The manager slides his hands down Sam's flat skinny chest and down over his tummy to his pajama pants. Sam's shaking increases and he's trembling like a leaf. "Good, good... Keep nice and quiet and still now..." Fingers hook into the waistband of his pants and yank hard. It's a miracle the fabric doesn't rip in half, that would be really hard to explain later. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip hard, biting back a half-formed scared sob when the manager pries his legs wide open.

"Hush now. Hush now boy it's not going to hurt. We're playing a game, that's all. Hold this between your teeth now before you draw blood." He plucks up the bottom hem of Sam's pajama shirt, pulls it up, and presses it against Sam's lips. The boy sniffles but obediently bites down on the fabric, completely exposed now.

The manager's large hands drag down over his newly exposed skin and goosebumps rise up in their wake. The man is speaking to him in soft slurred little coos but he doesn't pay attention to the exact words. He doesn't want to. Fingers slide up over his ribs then circle around his nipples, thumbing at them and pinching them. It feels weird, the pinching especially sends little confusing shocks all through his body. Then the hands slide lower to his skinny hip bones, lifting him up and dragging him closer. Sam hears the sound of a zipper and then something big and hard presses against his bare bottom. It's warm, thick, and leaves something slimy behind on his skin where it touches him. His tummy sinks when he feels it slide between his butt cheeks. _What is he doing?_

"Good boy... so soft..." He murmurs and Sam turns his face into the pillow. He doesn't want to listen anymore.

The man keeps moving whatever it is against his bottom and between his cheeks. When he tires of that though he roughly pulls Sam's legs back together and lifts them up high. He rubs the thing, whatever it is, between Sam's closed thighs. Something slippery and cold is drizzled onto his thighs between thrusts, and it makes the sliding motion easier. There's a soft squelching sound now with each movement. Sam peeks up a little, just a bit to try and understand what's happening to him. There's something thick and long pressing between his legs back and forth. With each movement the man grunts a bit, so Sam guesses it feels okay for him. It's hard to see it in the dim light but it looks like a bigger version of what Sam has between his legs. _Does it feel nice to rub it like that?_ The man's thrusts are getting more jerky and stuttery and then there's a bunch of warm sticky fluid shooting over Sam's tummy and soft cock.

"Very, very good..." The man is praising him again. "Good boys get rewards." Sam turns his head to the side again as the man spreads his legs wide, wide enough to ache. He whimpers through the cloth when the man's mouth touches his skin, licking over his privates and everywhere else the sticky fluid touched. Sam feels gross, dirty, he wants a bath. _Now._

"I'll be back tomorrow... you'll get the real reward then." The man gives him a pat on his thigh and finally lurches out. The door shuts with a click behind him.

Sam sits straight up in bed, grabs his pants, and dashes right over to the bathroom. He turns the water up as hot as he can and fills up the tub before sliding in. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs at his skin to get rid of the feeling of those hands wandering on him.

That's how Dean finds him an hour later, still in the tub, sat in now cold water with red skin.

"What're you doing in here Sammy? Ah geez look at you, you're shivering." Dean slides his hands under his little brother's armpits and scoops him up. He wraps him up in several crappy motel towels, drying him off. "What're you even doing out of bed?"

"It was cold without you... I just wanted to warm up in the bath." Sam mumbles back. He's positive Dean doesn't need to know about the man. Wouldn't his brother be disappointed in him for not fighting harder?

"Yeah well, I think you stayed in a little too long." Dean briskly dries off Sam's hair last. "Come on, let's get dressed and back into bed." He offers up the pajama pants first. Sam obediently puts one foot in, then the next, and lifts up his arms for his shirt. Then, finally, Dean scoops him up in his arms and carries him back to bed. He wraps his arms tightly around his big brother's neck. Dean runs hot and he's always strong. Sam takes comfort in that now, burrowing into his shoulder.

"What's gotten into you? You have a nightmare?" Dean peels back the comforter and slides under it with Sammy in his arms.

"Something like that... don't want to talk about it." Sam burrows deeper into Dean's chest, taking in the smell of warm leather, cheap soap, and his brother's natural scent. He didn't even give his brother the time to undress.

"Okay, bud. I'm here for you, get some sleep. I'm sorry for leaving you like that."

Sam burrows in deeper and closes his eyes. He falls asleep to the comforting feeling of Dean's hand in his hair.

\---

The next time it happens it's the rednecks in Hibbing. Not only is he stupid enough to get grabbed he's stupid enough to drink the water they give him in the cage. It's drugged.

Sam can't really tell time in this place but it couldn't be more than an hour after he eats. It starts with a burr on the edge of his vision, then as he moves his head it worsens. The room turns into smears of color as he moves his hand. He presses the heel of his hand against his eyes and opens them back up. It works for a second, his vision focuses before it slides right back out of focus again. His mouth feels dry and like its been stuffed with cotton. It's then that they enter the barn. The people.. god the _people_ that took them. They're not monsters, just honest to god _people_.

People are fucked up.

There's an audible snap as the lock on his cage flicks open. One of them grabs him by his hair and drags him out before throwing him onto the straw covered floor. He should get up. _Fight back._ But, his body isn't responding.

"Get the rope, Jared." The old one drawls. "We'll string him up by his wrists."

Sam can't keep track of them as they all pace around him. His thoughts are fuzzy and his eyes heavy. When one of them grabs his wrists to bind them he struggles weakly to pull away. He might as well be an elk trying to escape a pack of lions for all the good it does him. Rope, thick rope binds his wrists tightly together. It's hooked to something hovering above him. There's a grinding sound and then he's yanked up onto his feet as whatever it is pulls sharply upwards. His limbs feel heavy and clumsy as he struggles to get his feet back underneath him. His toes only just brush against the floor.

"Grab the whip Lee don't be dawdling or your brother'll get all the good bits."

"Sorry, Pa." The one man mutters off to the side.

Pa, the elder one paces around him. Sam can feel his eyes on him even if he can't see them. "You got that whip yet boy?" Hot, heavy hands on his hips. No. Not again.

"Right here Pa."

"Good. You'll get to go at him first." His pants and boxers are around his ankles. There's a short tearing sound as his shirt is ripped from his back.

No more. _Stop._

The first bite of the whip strikes diagonally across his shoulders. The pain bright, sharp, and hot, cutting through the fog of the tranquilizer. The next one strikes low across his back and curls around to flick his abs.

Let me go.

More short, sharp strikes rain down across his back, then down over his upper thighs as well. No two strikes hit the same spot but each one is a new bright burst of pain. Sam retreats within his consciousness as the assault continues. It's okay. It hurts, but it's going to be okay. The pain is only physical.

It'll end soon.

Then suddenly the floor is rushing up to meet him. His chin cracks hard against the ground and he's grabbed up by his wrists again. It's the third one. The one that was watching. He drags Sam up and tosses him over a barrel face first. All the wind is knocked out of him as his torso hits the edge. What-

No. Not again.

His ankle is kicked sharply, forcing his legs open and his awareness comes crashing back to the presence. He bites his lip hard to hold back a whimper. He won't beg. Not to them. They don't deserve the satisfaction.

"Jared you can go at 'em first since you've been patient. Go on boy."

Sam weakly tries to close his legs when he feels hands on his hips, but his ankle is kicked sharply again forcing them back open. He bites his lip hard, determined not to give them the satisfaction of making another sound.

He will not beg.

The first thrust is agony. The second he feels blood trickling down his thigh. The third a deep ache settles in the pit of his stomach. The fourth he feels a curl of disgust settle deep in his chest. The fifth he blacks out, retreating deep within himself to _endure._

When Sam finally becomes aware again he's been tossed back into his cage. His thighs are crusted with dried blood. His tattered shirt and pants have been thrown in with him. There's a new cup of water sat just inside the door as well. Like hell he's going to drink it though. His entire body aches and there's a sharp pain in his lower spine when he moves his hips, but he has to get clean. Well, as clean as he can. Methodically, he tears his shirt into strips and uses the water to clean up his thighs.

He really hopes Dean figures this case out soon.

\---

When Dean walks into the barn the next day Sam flies over to the edge of his cage. "Dean!"

"Sammy? Oh god- Sam your back, what'd they do to you? What are they?" Dean shakes the cage door but the lock is solid.

"The switch for the lock is over there. I'm... it doesn't hurt anymore, it's fine. Just get me out of here and dude.. they're people."

"People?"

"People." Sam echoes. "Just people."

"Yeah well... people are crazy. I'll get you out of there bud and into a hot shower."

\---

The next time it happens Sam's with Ruby and Dean is in hell. They're in a nicer hotel than normal tracking a new lead on Lilith. Sam is lying back on the bed with his hands behind his head. It's only been a month since Dean was taken by the hellhounds but the pain of losing his brother hasn't lessened at all. If anything, it's only gotten worse.

"Sam." Ruby's weight settles on his chest. "I'm bored."

Sam turns his head away from her. "Go to the bar then, there's one just downstairs."

"I want you to entertain me." Her hips roll back against his.

"Get off, I told you that was a one-time thing." He pushes back against her shoulder.

"Come ooooon it'll be fun. Sam. Sam come on, look at me." Ruby coaxes him, leaning over his face.

"What?" Sam turns his head just slightly towards her.

Ruby exploits the opening by tilting her head to the side and kissing him. her tongue coaxes his lips open and a trickle of hot blood runs down over his tongue. That tiny trickle burns all the way down his throat and lights a need in the pit of his stomach. He turns his head sharply to the side and breaks the kiss, ashamed to feel himself hardening with arousal.

"Stop, I'm serious."

"You want this." Ruby shifts back, pressing against his crotch. "I can feel it."

"Get off Ruby."

"I'd love to get you off if you'd stop being stubborn."

Sam makes some non-commital noise of protest and goes to push her again. She grasps his wrist mid-air and twists it back, slamming it against the pillows. A soft protest dies in the back of Sam's throat and he swallows heavily. It's obvious Ruby isn't going to give up.

"If you stay still like a good boy now only will I get you off..." Her hips shift back against his again. "I'll give you another taste. Would you like that?"

"Just get on with it." He replies wearily, biting back the urge to kiss her, to taste the lingering blood on her tongue. "It's clear you've made up your mind."

"Aw, Sam you know you love me. Keep your hands up here like a good boy, okay?" She presses once more firmly on his wrist before her hands fly down to his pants, working on the buckle and zipper. Sam gives in and lifts his hips for her. "There you go, now you're getting into it. I knew you wanted this." There's another rustle of clothing as her pants and shirt hit the floor.

"Look at me Sam, it's going to feel so good..." Her body is hot pressed against his, he feels her hand curl around his half-hard cock. "Come on... look at me." She coaxes, laying her other hand on his cheek.

Maybe this is the reason this keeps happening to him. He tilts his head back to face her, accepting her kiss, licking the blood from her lips. He's tainted, dirty, because of this blood.

It's his fault.

\---

Then it's Lucifer. Every day. All day. And the thing about Lucifer is... it isn't just physical. No. He knows just how to worm his way into Sam's mind, to see and use all the reasons he hates himself. And the real kicker? He can be anyone.

Some days it's every person he failed to save. Jess is a popular one.

Then other days it's Dean.

Those days are some of the worst. Hearing his brother's voice... hearing those things from Dean's mouth. It's hard. It's hard to remember that it isn't him. It's really Lucifer behind all those masks.

Then other days it's Castiel. His friend. Their protector. Their angel. Lucifer's rendition of his voice isn't quite as good as the original, but that's for the best.

Finally, the very worst days.. the worst days are the ones where Lucifer is gentle. It doesn't matter what face he wears. The days where he speaks soft words gives gentle caresses, and he makes Sam like it. The days where Sam begs.

When he's finally yanked out of that hell its a relief to not feel anything. His mind is sharp and he feels more balanced and in control than he has in a long, long time.

He's okay.

\---

The next time, it's Dean. Demon Dean...but still _Dean_.

"Come on Sammy let me out of here and I'll show you a good time. You know you want it right? Shaking that ass in front of me, walking around half naked. You're begging for it aren't ya? You want your big brother to grab you by the hips, bend you over and-"

Sam throws a glass of holy water in his face, cutting off his next words. "Shut up! You're not my brother, you're a demon, and I'm curing you. You're not getting out of that trap until you're done with the blood treatment." To top it off he sticks the next needle in Dean's arm, injecting him with the next round of sanctified blood.

Dean screams and thrashes, and his eyes turn pitch black. He curses Sam and spits obscenities. "I will get out of here little brother! And when I do... that's it. I'll take these fucking handcuffs and see how you like wearing them while I rip you open with my cock! And you know the really fucked up thing, Sammy? You're going to enjoy it, aren't you?"

Disgusted, Sam dumps another glass of water over his head and paces out. The door slams shut firmly behind him, blocking out Dean's ranting. Fuck. He presses the heel of his hands up against his eyes and concentrates on Castiel. "Cas... fuck I don't even know if you can hear this but I really need your help right now. Please, Cas, whatever you're doing, drop it. It's Dean. He's turned into a demon and I think the treatment is killing him instead of helping. I really, really need some support right now." He lifts his head up after a moment but of course... Cas isn't there. No. The angel only comes when _Dean_ calls.

Sam has another hour until he has to administer the next dose to Dean.. and he needs space. He can't listen to Dean anymore right now, so he wanders over to the kitchen to grab a beer... or two. He thinks he's earned them by now.

Sam doesn't hear him approaching. As he pulls out a chair to take a seat a hand is on the back of his shoulder shoving him forward. Years of combat experience kick in and he struggles. He manages to get a hand in his belt to pull out his gun, aims it behind him and... hesitates. "Ah Sammy you wouldn't pull that trigger now, would you? After all... I raised you." Dean chuckles, grabs his wrist, and twists. Sam chokes back a yelp of pain and drops the gun, a swift kick from Dean sends it skittering across the floor. "I told you, I can't wait to get these cuffs on you. Cool steel circles his hand and clicks into place. Panic bubbles up in his chest and in vain he struggles, attempting to elbow him in the stomach, the face, anything to break his grip but that wrist is caught all too easily and locked down into place.

Helpless. _Again_.

"There we go...those tight enough for you baby bro? Wouldn't want you struggling too much." Dean's hand presses hard between his shoulders, forcing his chest and head flush with the table. "I'm going to give you exactly what you want." He snaps Sam's belt with a sharp tug and unceremoniously yanks his jeans and boxers down.

"Fuck you." Sam spits out in response. His hips jerk as something cold drips down over his crack. _Lubricant?_

As if to answer his unspoken question Dean speaks up, "I don't want you tearing, not yet. That's for round two Sammy." The soft sound of a zipper opening. "Are you still a virgin back here? Or do you spread your legs for every man that can hold you down?"

"Shut up!" He snarls in response and kicks behind him.

The kick hardly phases Dean, and for Sam, it feels like kicking a rock. His foot gives a protesting throb. "Ahh, I got a sore spot, didn't I? You've been slutting around baby bro? Well don't you worry, now you can have the cock you really wanted all this time, and you're going to like it." Dean forces a knee between his little brother's knees, forcing them open wider for him to settle between.

Sam struggles in vain as strong hands settle on his hips and his brother's cock presses up against his hole. Dammit... _Cas!_ He throws out one last desperate prayer. _Castiel I could really, really use your help at the bunker right now! Cas, please!_ He bites his lip hard as he feels an all too familiar stinging stretch. Dean used lube, yes, but there's no prep as he slides inside inch by inch. Focus on the pain, it hurts. It _hurts._ This does not- it _cannot_ feel good.

"You really are taking it like a pro little bro." Dean gives a content sigh as he fully seats inside. "You really have done this before. Who was the first one? You can tell me."

"Go to hell." He chokes out in response.

"Been there, done that, brought back the postcard. If you're going to be insulting at least put some effort into it." Dean rolls his hips, giving an experimental thrust. "Mmm so where is it, Sammy?"

"I don't... know what you're talking about!" Sam sinks his teeth into his lip, choking down a whine.

"Sure you do... the spot that'll drive you crazy." Another experimental roll of the hips, smoother this time... and it grazes over the spot. Sam's entire body tenses up, rejecting the teasing tingle of pleasure dancing down his spine. "Ah-ha. Is this where it is?" A firmer thrust this time, bumping it directly. All the breath leaves Sam's lungs in a rush, and his brother chuckles above him. "Right here, Sammy?" One more slow, deliberate thrust and Sam's body shudders involuntarily.

"Go... Go to hell." Is the only the Sam chokes out in response. This _cannot_ feel good.

"I'm getting bored from hearing the same old thing, Sammy. So tell me this instead, did you ever finger yourself imagining this moment?"

Sam's shoulders strain as Dean pulls back on the handcuffs, using them as leverage. He doesn't acknowledge him with an answer and bites down hard on his lip again as Dean begins to rock into him with slow, even thrusts. He's aiming at Sam's prostate and hitting it directly every other thrust, grazing against it on all the others. Heat builds in Sam's lower stomach against his will and he can feel himself getting hard, his erection bumping up against the table every few thrusts.

"You don't want to answer me huh? That's fine, I already know the answer." Dean pulls hard on the handcuffs now, using them to pull Sam back on each thrust, his movements rough and purposeful.

Small, involuntary sounds escape Sam by now. The heat is building, spiraling up along with his pleasure, and the thrusts don't hurt anymore. He has no way to resist. He's powerless and his body is _enjoying_ it. Sam gives a small, choked sob, as he cums all over the floor just from Dean's cock.

"You must've been born to be a cock slut. What kind of fucked up person cums from being raped by his big brother?" Dean sniggers. "I still haven't cum yet Sammy, my turn." He starts to move again but there's movement on the stairs now, and a moment later Dean goes flying into the wall.

Sam lifts his head wearily, blinking away tears. Cas. Cas finally showed up. He's got Dean pinned against the wall by his throat. "Cas... Get him back in the devil's trap and.. and take away his memories."

"Sam, are you sure this is wise?" Castiel squints at him.

"I'm sure, make sure he forgets the past hour or so." Sam feels weary mentally and physically but he peels himself up off the table. Now that his wits have returned he crouches to retrieve the lock picks from his boots and he has the handcuffs off in under a minute.

"Sam? Dean is contained. Do you require assistance?" Castiel is back in the doorway, squinting in concern. "Healing?"

"Forget this ever happened Cas, that's all I ask." He kicks off his soiled jeans and boxers, glaring at the splatters of cum on the floor. "Dean won't remember it?"

"Dean will not remember anything that transpired. Are you sure you aren't in need of assistance?" The angel paces a few steps closer.

"Leave it be. I'm fine now, its over." This time. For now. Because it will happen again won't it? Because I'm still tainted. I brought this on myself... and I _enjoyed_ it.

I'm fucked up.

\---

The final time it's Cas. Rowena's spell is still eating away at his mind. He's going from perfectly rational angel one moment to rabid attack dog the hex. Sam is sitting with him in the library when the cuffs break, of course, he is.

Cas pounces on him, snarling. The chair flies backward and the two roll onto the floor. The angel lands on top, pinning him with his bulkier body. He mouths at Sam's neck and his fingers scrabble and tear at the taller man's clothing.

"Cas! Cas snap out of it- ouch! You better not have rabies that was my neck!" He jerks his knee upward in an attempt to dislodge him and gets another bite for the trouble.

Cas lets out a triumphant growl as Sam's clothing finally tears away and then he's fully on him, forcing his way in with no lubrication...

 _Here we go again..._ Sam lets his body go limp. The angel manhandles him into position, leaving bruises wherever he touches. Warm blood trickles down onto the floor from between his legs, and the deep bites left along his neck and shoulders. And still, Sam doesn't fight it. He releases a sigh when Cas finishes inside him.

"Holy shit, Sammy!" Dean's outraged voice comes from off to the side. "Cas get off of him!"

Back to full angel awareness, Cas jerks away, stumbling over his own feet in an attempt to back away from Sam as fast as possible.

"You too now Dean?..." Sam spreads his bruised, abused legs. He can feel Cas's cum dripping out of him, he's sure there's blood as well. "Go on then... all ready for you."

Dean just stares at him for a moment before turning to throw up on the floor. "God Sam- God no. How could you... I... did I hurt you?... I remember I..."

"I'm fine, just a bit sore." Sam interrupts that train of thought. Right. Dean isn't supposed to remember that. "I think I'll go have a shower... and you can clean up your puke. Gross." His back and legs protest every movement but he gets his legs up underneath him and limps towards his room. He can feel Dean and Cas's eyes on him the entire way.

Great. Just fucking _peachy._

\---

The following week is awkward in the bunker. Dean and Cas tiptoe around him like they're walking on eggshells. Cas has the brokenhearted puppy look going and Dean looks torn between disgust and loathing every time his eyes land on Sam. He can't really blame his brother for feeling that way about him though. Sam had gotten off on being raped by his elder brother. That is _pretty_ messed up.

No, what's _truly_ annoying is how obviously they avoid touching him. Even an accidental brush and they jerk like they touched boiling water or something. It just makes Sam sigh every time and then they look at him like he's the weird one. Sam quietly makes a bet to himself on how long the situation will last before one of them finally confronts him. They've been talking behind his back he's sure, wondering how to handle him or what to do now.

\---

It's officially been a week and a half since Cas broke out of those cuffs. They're all sat in the library, Sam on his laptop, Dean is flipping through a magazine, and Cas is poking halfheartedly through some old texts. Sam is the only one that's actually concentrating on his task, searching for new hunts. They could all use some time outside of the bunker.

"Hey guys, I found a simple salt and burn. Why don't we head out and take care of it? Get out of the bunker for a couple of days and get some fresh air."

Dean and Cas share the 'look'. That 'look' of silent communication.

"Or... I could go on my own and you two can stare at each other. Alright, good plan." Sam closes his laptop and rises.

"Sam, we have to talk about this." Dean is the one to break first, not surprising. "This... this is not okay." He gestures between them all. "You're acting like everything is all peachy when two of the people closest to you... the people closest to you..."

"Raped me?" Sam completes the thought for him. "I told you, Dean, I'm fine. So Cas give you all your memories back?"

"He was starting to remember anyway Sam, it wasn't right to continue to keep it from him." Castiel stares at the table guiltily.

"The things I said to you, what I did to you... that's fucked up Sammy. You can't just be fine after that."

"Says who? You?" He shakes his head in response. "You can't tell me how to feel. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Cas's fault. You two don't want to get out for a few days? Fine. I'll go do the salt and burn on my own. I'm tired of watching you guys tiptoe around me when I'm fine."

"Then who's fault was it huh?" Dean paces around the table. "Cause it sure sounds like you're blaming yourself and that's crap. You were the victim."

Sam's lips press together in a thin line. He could talk Dean's ears off and at the end of it, his brother still wouldn't get it. "I'm leaving, I'm going to do the salt and burn, and while I'm gone you and Cas can talk it out because I am fine. You two clearly aren't." He shoves Dean's shoulder as he walks past, stomping to the garage.

"That could have gone better."

"No shit Cas, really? I hadn't noticed."

\---

The salt and burn was only half a days drive away and it took Sam even less time than that to find the bones and burn them. His cell phone has remained blissfully silent throughout the day, and he's relieved. He doesn't understand what Dean wanted him to say back at the bunker and he certainly doesn't know what to say now. Instead of making the drive back to the bunker he checks himself into a cheap motel for the night. Maybe the distance will help them get their act together and they'll understand he wants space.

\---

"I just don't get it. Sam's acting like we did nothing wrong. Hell, he hasn't changed at all." Dean is well into his drinks by now. Cas is a solid weight by his side. "But the things I said to him Cas... that ain't right. I don't care what he thinks, that ain't right. What I did to him ain't right and I am never going to forgive myself."

"Sam forgives you." Cas prompts.

"Sam ain't thinking straight."

"Perhaps we should make the effort to understand Sam's thoughts and feelings on the subject. You were rather aggressive in your earlier argument."

"Because I expected him to get angry." Dean grouses. "Hell, I wanted him to get angry. That's how we get our damned feelings out."

"It seemed highly ineffective Dean. Have you considered your methods of communication are not the same as your brother's?"

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

"Shut up man. You're killing my buzz."

"My apologies. Have you consumed enough alcohol to sleep now?"

"Not nearly enough. Shut up and share a drink with me."

\---

Sam returns to the bunker the next afternoon with a peace offering of booze and a bag of burgers. "Guys? I'm back!"

"In here Sammy! We're watching Netflix!" Dean calls back from further in the bunker.

If he's relaxed enough to watch Netflix with Cas then he's probably fine. Sam thinks as he heads to their chill room. Dean is leaning against one arm of the couch with Cas sat on the other end of it. It's pretty obvious where they want him to sit... He shoots a quick glance at the free armchair but decides against it. Things are normal. They sit together all the time. He sets the bags down on the table and plops down between the two of them.

"You got my favorite burgers?" Dean snatches up the bag first and digs through it.

"There's pie in the bottom of the bag too, apple."

"Aw Sammy, you're after my heart aren't you? You got a ring too?"

"Not this time Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replies fondly, taking a large bite out of his burger.

Drinks are passed around and after an hour passes Sam is finally starting to relax. Everything is back to normal between the three of them Seems like giving them space was the right idea after all. Sam is relaxed against the back of the couch with his legs crossed, Dean is stretched out with his feet on the table, and Cas is tucked neatly into the space leftover on his end of the couch. They're catching up on Game of Thrones on Netflix and Sam is sure that the worst from last night has passed.

He's wrong, of course. They were just waiting for him to let his guard down.

Dean leans over and pushes the pause button on the remote. "Alright Sammy, we've gotta talk."

"About?..." Sam is instantly wary. He looks between their faces with a small frown.

"The argument we were having well... I don't want to argue with you..."

"What Dean is trying to say is he is willing to have a 'chick flick moment' and have a calm conversation with you about what passed between the two of you, as well as me and you."

"Yeah uh, what Cas said man."

"I thought we had a strict 'no chick flick moment' rule." Sam flicks his eyes back and forth between the two of them, feeling trapped.

"Well, I'm making a damned exception this time. Was it... when I forced you, was it the first time?"

"If we're going to talk about it call it what it was." Sam's voice is flat and offputting. He's hoping Dean will let it drop.

"Alright... when I... raped you, was that the first time that had happened?" Dean chokes a little on the word, but he gets it out.

Son of a _bitch_... "No. It wasn't the first time." Short, concise answers. They don't need the details.

Dean looks like he wants to punch something. "When was the first time?"

"I don't know I was... seven maybe? Eight? You were gone and it was a motel manager." He wants to stop there but the rest of it tumbles out in an involuntary rush. "After that, it was those damned cannibal hillbillies, then Ruby, then Lucifer, then you, and finally Cas. And you know what? It's not your fault it happened it's _mine_."

His elder brother is struck speechless at the blunt statement. It looks like he wants to say something, but he can't get it out. Cas's deep, gravelly voice startles him, "Why do you feel it is your fault, Sam?" Christ, he almost forgot the angel was there.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sam turns on him. "Because I'm tainted, cursed. I thought it was just the demon blood at first but.. but it's not only that. It's me. I'm broken."

"You are not broken. We've all been through so much shit together, how can you even say that?" Dean's voice kicks up a decibel and it's only a solid look from Cas that silences him.

"Sam." Cas's voice is even and encouraging. "It is not obvious to us. Please elaborate."

Sam grits his teeth in irritation. Any other time he'd find Cas's voice comforting, but not now. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Yeah well... We have to. Come on what's going on in that big brain of yours Sammy?"

"And stop calling me Sammy, it's Sam!" He finally snaps back, hoping to change the subject.

Dean holds up his hands in a peacekeeping pose but Castiel is undeterred. "Sam please, I find it confusing that you can blame yourself for something so out of your control. You are not cursed or broken. Even if you consider yourself to be those things that does not make it okay for you to have been raped throughout your life."

"You said it yourself once before Cas, I'm an abomination." Sam attempts to shift the subject again.

"I was drunk at the time and I had not witnessed you at your best. You are special Sam Winchester." Cas replies bluntly.

"Stop."

"You are Sam." Dean chimes in now. "We saved the world several times over by now, and you were willing to sacrifice yourself to close the gates of hell. Not everyone can say that. We're awesome. You're awesome."

"We're the ones that broke it in the first place. We were just trying to clean up our messes. I didn't actually close the gates either so I don't think it counts."

"Why are you so resistant to praise?" Castiel observes.

Sam is starting to feel thoroughly ganged up on and trapped. The two of them are pressed in close on either side of him and he's getting whiplash from looking back and forth between the two of them. "You know what? Enjoy the booze and burgers and whatever. I'm going to bed." He stands up and turns to leave but Dean is blocking his way. There's a rustle of cloth as Castiel stands up behind him, effectively boxing him in again.

"Please, Sam." His brother's voice has turned almost pleading and he never says please in that tone.

"We're family," Castiel states simply. "Please."

Sam looks between the two of them feeling panic bubble up in his chest. They're not going to drop it, that's obvious now. They may let it lie for a while but soon enough they'll be _picking_ at it again, looking for answers. He swallows hard. "You really want to know why I'm not a victim?" There's no tremble in his voice now at least. "Because I _enjoyed_ it. Hell, I _begged_ for it! With Ruby yeah I said no plenty of times but I always gave in at the end. I still got hard. I still made her feel good. And Lucifer? God don't even get me started." He's on a roll and it's all tumbling out. "Did you know he could turn into anyone? He liked to play games with me. A new face each day but he always had three favorites he returned to. Jess was one, of course, she was but you know who the others were? You and Cas. My big brother and best friend. The devil fucked me while looking like you and I liked it. I asked for it. No, I'm not a victim. I'm just fucked up." He's breathing heavily by the end of his rant and glaring at the floor. "Now if you'd move I want to go to bed." His eyes stay glued to the floor. He can't meet their eyes. He doesn't want to see the disgust in them.

"Sam."

Dean's hand lands on his shoulder and he bolts for it, dodges under the upraised arm, and sprints down the hallway, making a break for his room. His throat is tight, his face feels hot, his eyes are stinging, and his cheeks are wet. Thankfully they don't follow him, but Sam is sure they'll come soon enough. He can't imagine them wanting him around anymore. They'll come and kick him out any time now and he won't blame them. He doesn't want to be around himself either.

\---

 _"Fuck."_ Dean curses, pacing around the couch. "I should go after him. I can't believe- I need to-"

"You need to calm down." The angel interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder. "You need to be rational. I doubt Sam will leave his room any time soon. We need to talk now, and you need to take a seat."

"Son of a bitch..."

"Yes, you've said that several times now." Castiel presses a full glass of whiskey into his hand. "Drink."

Dean doesn't hesitate, he throws back the full glass. "I'm going to need more than that to get over this. Fuck Cas did you hear what he went through? I should have been there each time, I should have been protecting him. Seven years old Cas. This has been going on since he was _seven_."

"I heard him, Dean."

"He doesn't believe he's a victim, because he orgasmed? That's even more fucked up. It wasn't his fault. A body just... it reacts ya know? And all that stuff with Lucifer, that's just plain old mental torture. That sure as hell isn't his fault. He's the smartest guy I know but he can be so thick sometimes... how do we convince him? He's gotta believe us. It wasn't his fault."

"I believe he truly does not want to place any blame on us. It will require a different approach."

"Yeah, and what are you suggesting?"

"Sam truly believes it is all his fault. We must be gentle with him Dean. We cannot force him into anything and we cannot force him to believe. He is highly resistant to praise but positive reinforcement may be best, along with familial affection. When was the last time you hugged?"

Dean holds up a hand and Castiel obligingly falls quiet. "Cas... you really think that'll work? Hug it out and it'll all be hunky dory?"

"I am not suggesting it will be easy. Sam, of course, will be resistant but we will persist. He cannot continue to think this way, it is self-destructive."

Dean holds up the hand again and once again Castiel falls quiet. The angel is making a half-decent argument. "Alright... Alright. We'll try it your way again then."

"Are you admitting I am right then?"

"Cas, do you see my hand here?" Dean holds up his and one last time. "Talk to it, 'cause I ain't listening."

"Dean I do not understand, you are listening to me right now."

\---

They leave him be for all of a day if that. Sam never went to sleep. Instead, he curled up under his blanket with his face buried in his favorite pillow... waiting. The firm knocks echoes across his room and pulls a sigh from him. Reluctantly he pushes himself up and rubs at his face, scratching off dried tear tracks. The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

"Sammy we've gotta talk about this, come out!"

More talking. Weariness pulls at his limbs as he stands, inviting him to hide back in bed and ignore the persistent call from his brother. Experience tells him Dean won't leave him alone though so he drags himself over and opens the door. His brother is there poised to knock again, Cas is standing just a few feet behind him.

"I'll have all of my stuff out of the bunker soon, just give me an hour." He sighs.

"You.. what? Dude, we're not kicking you out." Dean's expression turns to one of irritation. "Come on, I made your favorite pancakes and a mountain of bacon and hash browns. We're going to eat and then we're going to talk. Or if you don't want to talk then fine, me and Cas will do all the talking. _Capice?_ "

"...Capice." Sam replies hesitantly. He can't see any reason why they'd let him stay here with them after what he confessed. He doesn't allow himself to hope. Dean's hand wraps firmly around his bicep and Sam lets himself be dragged along.

Dean wasn't lying about that mountain of bacon waiting for them. His brother really went overboard with the food this morning, hell Cas doesn't even eat anymore. Sam doesn't voice any complaints when a plate piled high with everything is set down in front of him though. He picks up his fork and picks at it before taking a bite. Banana. His favorite. Sam can feel their eyes on him but he isn't brave enough to lift his gaze and meet them. He shovels another bite of pancake into his mouth.

Breakfast is absolutely silent.

When they're done Dean's hand wraps around his bicep again and tugs him up. Sam lets him lead, eyes glued to the floor. They end up back in their tv room. Dean steers him to sit in the middle of the couch and they take a step away from him. Sam swallows nervously, staring a hole through the floor.

"Sam." Dean's voice almost makes him flinch. Almost. He doesn't have to be afraid of his brother, right? "Sam." His brother's voice is gentler this time like he can tell what Sam is thinking. "First of all, we're not going to kick you out. This is your home as much as ours and I would never, ever abandon you. You're my baby brother. I practically raised you. If you get anything through that thick skull of yours let it be this. This is _our_ home."

Listening to the speech has made Sam's throat tighten up again, but yeah... Dean's made himself clear. "Got it." He replies softly. It's a nice feeling too. They still want him around even if he's fucked up.

"Second, you are a victim. I know you don't think you are but... you never gave consent."

"I might as well have. I told you." He resists the urge to run and hide again. "I don't want to say it again."

Castiel steps closer to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, if a child were raised by a pedophile, groomed to enjoy sex with adults, is that child, not a victim then if they ask for it?"

"Wha-?" Sam looks up at the angel, surprised. "Of course not Cas, don't be stupid."

"Then tell me, what is different about your situation? From a young age, you had been assaulted. You've made assumptions that lead to you believing you deserved what you had been through. You had no choice, in any of the situations you've described to us. It was not your fault."

Sam presses his lips together at that. He wants to argue it. He's going to argue it because can't they see it? Can't they see how broken he is?

"We're going to tell you that as many times as you need to hear it, Sammy. It wasn't your fault. None of it was." Dean joins in, kneeling in front of him.

Sam presses his lips together more firmly now to hide the tremble forming. His eyes feel hot again but slowly, hesitantly he lifts them to meet their eyes. Their gazes are unmoving and sincere. They're not lying to him. They're not doing this to make themselves feel better. They mean this. His vision blurs with tears and he launches himself at Dean, wrapping his arms firmly around his brother's shoulders.

"It's alright... We're here for you Sam." Dean hugs him back just as tight. "We love you." Cas's hand settles on his back, rubbing back and forth.

Finally, Sam openly cries, sobbing into Dean's shoulder while their angel rubs his back. He cries, yells, and curses for every injustice done to him. For every moment he hated himself. For every time he thought he deserved it.

Finally, with their support, he finds the strength to begin to forgive himself. To begin to heal.

 


End file.
